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 Pre-Tournament Reflections  Sports Illustrated golf writer Alan Shipnuck checks in daily from Royal Birkdale Posted: Wed July 15, 1998 SOUTHPORT, England—So I fly all night to London, miss my connection to Southport, get lost on the motorway, lose my parking pass, and along the way develop the kind of violent intestinal problems usually reserved for Tim Cahill novels or old college stories set in Tijuana. When I finally arrive at Royal Birkdale the sun is getting low and the place nearly deserted. Thoroughly bummed, I strolled out to the heart of the back nine and it was like ... aaaaahhhhh. Birkdale is such a neat place, I have to say I was rather moved to finally lay eyes on it. The wet spring here has left the fairways a shocking shade of green, framed by the swaying, golden heather and evocative sand dunes. O.K., I better stop now before I get too misty or, worse, reveal my daydream, which involves Catherine Zeta-Jones riding bareback on a white stallion ... whoops, that must be the jet lag talking. Anyway, I did catch a few players loitering at the range, and with the help of some stragglers in the press room I'm up to speed on the comings and goings of the week so far. Monday there was a Biblical windstorm, which sent many players scurrying off the course in fear of having their swings blown away. Tom Lehman (more on him in a minute) lost all six of his balls in the first eight holes. Tiger hit a wind-aided drive of 457 yards, and on the next hole, into the wind, he hit a full 3-iron that went 152. All the players were saying if it howls like that during the tournament proper a score of anywhere from two to 10 over par will win it. The last couple of days have been more benign, which is good because Birkdale is shaping up as one of the toughest Open Championship tracks in some time. A lot of guys have been moaning about how tight the fairways are, and how penal the rough/heather is. Strolling around I was struck by how different this place looks than, say, the wide-open expanse of St. Andrews. This tournament will be lost with wayward drives. The greens have also been the talk of the town. You may recall they were spongy, spiked-up messes in '91. Since then they have been rebuilt and recontoured, and they're drawing raves. Even though the new slopes allow for some devilish new pins, I'd expect to see some stellar putting performances. That said, Ernie Els has already called this the toughest par-70 course he's seen, which is saying something considering the Olympic Club, host of last month's U.S. Open, also played to a par of 70. So with all this conflicting info it's not easy to wager a more sophisticated projected winning score. Tight fairways but great greens, soft conditions but the threat of nuclear wind ... hmmm. Forget 11 under; I'd go with seven. Unless it really blows. Then I'd go with seven. Over par. As for injuries, Nick Faldo felt great during his practice round today and is good to go for tomorrow. I read his press-conference transcript and he was typically sardonic but unusually chipper and optimistic. If he can maintain this insouciance I think he may be a factor on the weekend. O.K., I've stalled long enough. Now for the Lehman update: The word on the street is that his status for the tournament is in doubt because of a freak injury to his right shoulder sustained when he—hold on to your hat—fell down on a carnival ride while hanging out with his kids Tuesday afternoon. I present this info with a disclaimer: No one seems to have talked to him directly, and this evening I was too whipped (or apathetic; pick one) to get my Woodward on and do some serious fact-checking. Tomorrow I'll have the unvarnished truth. Until then, I implore you to be careful dismounting from the spinning teacup.
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